


Preoccupations

by notlucy



Series: Additional Information [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Bad Flirting, Bad Ideas, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Crush at First Sight, Drunken Kissing, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Protective Steve Rogers, Well second sight actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 04:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12548732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlucy/pseuds/notlucy
Summary: Steve doesn't usually pay much attention to the new hires. But there's something about this kid.





	Preoccupations

**Author's Note:**

> This story covers Steve's perspective on the first six chapters of Proprietary Information. If you haven't read that, you will probably be confused. You can find it as part of this series.

Steve was never late. Nor was he early. He arrived precisely when he meant to. Or, at least, that’s what he’d say to Sam when he inevitably gave him shit for once again being tardy for their executive staff meeting, which started at ten o’clock every other Tuesday. Steve hated the meetings. They were boring and pointless, an excuse for people to be their most pompous, useless selves. Originally they’d served a purpose, but lately the same obnoxious personalities had dominated and Steve found himself spending more time doodling in a notebook than paying attention. He liked his colleagues - well, most of them, but he was always grateful when he had a trip scheduled or something else that would get him out of the meeting. He hadn’t been able to get it out of it that day, though.

Honestly, he hadn’t even _meant_ to be late. He’d woken up early, worked out with his trainer, made an elaborate breakfast (read: protein shake) and then he'd gotten wrapped up in a project that was _actually_ important to the organization. Suddenly it was nine forty-five and Monty had been waiting for fifteen minutes, plus traffic in midtown was a mess. He texted Sam to let him know he was going to be at least a couple minutes late and refused to feel guilty about it as he walked through the lobby of the building, tapping his ID on the security gate and heading to the elevator bank.

The doors had just started to shut when he heard a frantic, “hold it, please!” from outside. Never one to deny himself the chance to be even later to the meeting than he already was, Steve stuck his arm out to catch the doors.

And hey, the fact that the guy currently sprinting into the elevator with him was cute didn’t hurt.

“Thanks so much,” cute guy said, sounding out of breath and looking flustered. “Sorry.”

He was younger than Steve had initially thought, the stubble and dark hair swept back into a loose ponytail belying the babyface underneath. Still cute. Probably an intern. “Not a problem,” he replied, gesturing towards the bank of buttons. “What floor?”

“Uh..” the guy looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his (pretty, shit) blue eyes widening as he thought about what wasn’t actually a difficult question. Steve was just about to ask again when he came back to life. “Thirty-four. Public Relations.”

Aww. Definitely an intern, this one. This clueless, nervous, clearly out-of-his-depth one.

Sticking his hand out, Steve caught the door again and shook his head. “This elevator services floors forty and above,” he explained, trying to be as nice as possible about it. The elevators were confusing, and the kid looked mortified. “Tall building,” he continued. The poor thing was probably from Iowa or something and had never been in a city like New York or a building like StarkTech before. “Gotta split ‘em up.”

“Shit,” the kid said, and he actually went a little pale. Steve really had to talk to the internship coordinator if she was scaring the program participants that badly. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m really late. Sorry, thank you. Sorry for holding you up.”

He darted away before Steve could say anything else. He let the doors shut that time, pressing the button for the floor he needed and smiling to himself. Being late was almost always worth it.

* * *

Steve didn’t spend a lot of time with the folks in Public Relations. He didn’t need to - they did their jobs well, and for the most part, he participated in minimal press for the company. Talking to the media was more Pepper’s department. Steve preferred dealing with them when it involved his charitable work and contributions since those meant a lot more to him than StarkTech. Still, sometimes things arose that necessitated his presence, like Alexander Pierce stealing a contract right out from under them. Nothing annoyed Steve more than a bully, and Pierce was a bully of the first order.

So he was going to go on a charm offensive, which meant a meeting with Rhodey’s right-hand-woman, Maria Hill. Steve liked Maria, she didn’t put up with any bullshit, and she ran a tight ship. When he had to meet with her, he was always early, because while he might not have respected the time of his peers, he tried to respect the time of people lower down the chain than he was.

He stood up when Maria came into the room, followed by a tall young man who looked vaguely familiar, as though they’d met before. It was the way a lot of the employees looked to him these days - he knew their faces, sometimes, but had a hard time remembering their names.

“Steve,” Maria greeted, smiling at him.

“Maria, hi,” he replied, eyes flicking from her to the man, trying to place him.

“This is my new assistant,” Maria said, filling in the blanks as she gestured for said assistant to join her. “James Barnes.”

“Hi, James,” Steve smiled, offering his hand.

James spoke at nearly the same time, “It’s nice to see you again, Steve.”

Ha! So he _had_ met him somewhere before. But where? Didn’t matter, really, though the kid looked uncomfortable at having blurted it out, so Steve wanted to put him at ease. It was hard being young and meeting senior people at work - he remembered those days with considerable embarrassment. He took the opportunity to shake James’ hand before smiling. “I wasn’t aware we’d met. I apologize - I can be so bad with faces.”

James bit his lip, which was very cute, and shit, what was he doing thinking Maria’s new assistant was cute?

“Uh, we didn’t meet, exactly?” James glanced at his boss, then back to Steve. “I was...you were in the elevator, and I was late for my interview, and you told me it didn’t go to the floor I needed?”

Oh! The intern! Now he remembered. Except apparently, the kid wasn’t an intern, he was an employee. Which meant he _wasn’t_ in college. Which meant he was older than Steve had originally thought. Which meant…

Nope. Steve needed to _shut it down immediately_ because absolutely not. James was still very young. And very employed by the company in which he held an extremely senior position. Ergo: one million percent not a line of thought he was allowed to entertain.

So he covered, laughing and acknowledging it. “I remember now. You look different when you’re not panicking.”

He’d meant it to be a joke, but the way James’ cheeks went red had him feeling bad about teasing. Not everyone appreciated Steve’s sense of humor.

“Uh...yeah,” he managed, looking so awkward that Steve could have kicked himself.

“Well, James,” Steve said, determined to put the kid at ease, considering he’d been the one to cause the discontent. “I’m pleased the interview went well. Welcome to StarkTech.”

The blush faded and James relaxed, just a little, his shoulders coming down from where they’d hunched up around his ears. Maria looked more than a little amused, obviously fond of her new assistant already. That was a good sign - she’d yet to make a bad hire, as far as Steve knew.

“Thanks, Mr. Ro...uh, Steve,” James said, quickly correcting himself, which was the right choice. Steve really hated formal titles around the office and he didn’t need to feel any older around this kid than he already was.

They got the meeting going soon after that, James sitting to one side taking notes while Maria and several of her people discussed the problem. Steve found himself volunteering for any part of the plan that would have him visiting the Public Relations floor more often. Because it had been a while. He was allowed to _look_.

* * *

As it turned out, Steve looked a lot. Because he was fascinated by the kid. Something about him _stuck_. He looked at James’ desk whenever he passed by and he wasn’t there, taking in the mounds of paperwork (messy), the photos that appeared on his shelf one day (James and a redhead - girlfriend? James and three dark-haired girls who looked like him. Sisters? Cousins? A man and a woman in an older photo - the woman had his smile - mother?), the hoodie hung on the back of his chair (black, a red star on the shoulder).

Steve found himself spending a fair bit of time online, frustrated that he couldn’t find James on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. Weren’t the millennials supposed to be obsessed with social media? A generic search for ‘James Barnes’ brought up a myriad of people who weren’t _that_ James. The kid was a virtual ghost. In the end, all he found was a LinkedIn page, with very limited information about where he’d gone to college and his jobs prior to StarkTech, consisting of two summers spent working retail and a stint as a barista.

It wasn’t much to go on. That was probably good, considering Steve knew he shouldn’t have been spending time looking. James was cute, that was all. It wasn’t his fault that he was exactly Steve’s type - brown hair, pretty smile, a little reserved, obviously well-meaning. Steve didn’t need to fixate all his time and energy on him, though. Wasn’t healthy.

Still. It had been nearly two years since things with Erik had ended in a spectacular blowout. To say Steve’s trust in other humans was shaken after finding out his boyfriend of a year and a half was cheating on him was an understatement. He hadn’t been celibate since then, but he also wasn’t sleeping with anyone on the regular. Work kept him busy and he felt too old for the bar scene. He’d never liked clubs much, at least not the clubs people expected him to enjoy, and kink clubs didn’t often lend themselves to people seeking monogamy. Online dating was too impersonal for him, and he’d throw himself in the East River before he let Peggy or Sam set him up.

So he watched James because it was easier to pretend than to tackle his issues head-on. James gave him a lot to watch, always chewing on his bottom lip in a way that made Steve want to bite it, or playing with the hair that fell out of his ponytail in a way that made Steve want to pull it. He spent far too much time imagining what James would look like naked, what sounds he might make in bed, how his lips would feel wrapped around Steve’s cock.

He wanted him. Badly. He was a bad person.

His personhood was definitely in question the day he told Maria Hill that he needed something hand-delivered by someone she trusted and hoped to God that someone was James.

“Uh, hi?” came the tentative knock on his door.

Oh, God bless Maria.

Steve had been working on some design sketches he was planning to share with Tony later that afternoon, and he looked up from his perch on the sofa, biting back a grin.

“James, hi.” He stood up, crossing the room without thinking better of it. Damn it, why hadn’t he let the kid come to him? “Are those from Maria? Great, thank you.”

James started forward, holding out the envelope. He was nervous. Why did Steve find that so attractive? Oh, right, because he found everything about James attractive, from his ill-fitting business casual attire to the way he always seemed to miss a spot shaving. “Um, yeah, she uh...she didn’t want to use the courier.”

“Huh,” he replied, taking the envelope casually, as though he hadn’t been the one to make the request. “Guess she must trust you. That’s good - she’s tough.”

“Yeah,” James nodded, before panic set in. Steve bit back another laugh, waiting to see how James would cover his blunder. There was a very bad part of him that enjoyed watching him squirm. “I mean, no, she’s...she’s tough, but she’s an excellent boss. I’m learning a lot.”

Fuck, he was cute when he stammered. Steve briefly wondered if he’d stammer in bed, which... _nope_. Not okay. Abort mission.

Crossing the room quickly to put some distance between them, he tossed the envelope (which wasn’t even _that_ important) down onto his sketches. It was only now that he had James in his office he realized just taking the envelope from him wasn’t actually enough of a pretext to get him to stay. So he thought on his feet, turning back around. “That’s good. What’s your background?”

What was this, a fucking job interview? Jesus, Rogers.

James took the question in stride. “Oh, uh, I graduated from Purchase a year and a bit ago, communications degree. I was working in uh...the food services industry before I got this job.”

Which, of course, Steve already knew due to his LinkedIn stalking. Wasn’t weird. “Purchase is a wonderful school,” he said, feeling like someone’s awkward grandfather as he leaned against the back of the sofa, aiming for casual and ending up an idiot. “I did some work with their art and design school a couple years ago.”

James looked confused, then awkward, then he blurted out something that reminded Steve emphatically that he was, at best, all of twenty-four years old. “Cool!”

Cool. Yeah, no. Bad idea bears. He had to get this kid out of his office. So he went for professional granddad again. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ve been getting plenty of people asking you about your background since you started - par for the course with the new folks. I know Maria’s sure glad to have you. She’s good about promoting assistants, so keep up the good work and you’ll do well here.”

New folks? Sure glad to have you? _Keep up the good work?_ Well, if there had ever been a chance James might think he was reasonably interesting or attractive, there it went.

Steve’s ridiculous, pompous response set James stammering again, of course. Jesus, he shouldn’t have found that so endearing. “Oh, that would be...I mean, I hope so. We’ll see, I guess. I’m learning a lot. I mean...I already said that, sorry.”

Steve was dying. It was only right he put them both out of their misery. “It’s alright, I won’t keep you here and torture you with awkward small-talk, I’m sure Maria has plenty for you to do. Thank you again for the package.”

“That’s...uh, you’re welcome.” The kid practically ran out of his office.

Fuck. Shut it down, Steve.

* * *

Dressing up as Mr. Rogers had seemed like a good idea until he saw James Barnes in his line at the stupid company Halloween event. He’d been doing a fairly good job of completely avoiding the kid, and had almost convinced himself he didn’t exist, save for the lingering fantasies that kept popping up in Steve’s head at inopportune moments. James was with the pretty brunette who sat next to him, as well as some other guy Steve had seen with a camera around his neck at a lot of corporate functions. Paul? Parker?

“James, hi,” he greeted, cursing himself for being too effusive as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

“Hey,” James replied, and then the punk gave him an actual once over. The hell was that? “Um...I thought you guys had to wear a costume?”

Oh, right. The costume. James was looking at him because he was dressed up. Or, rather, James thought he wasn’t. Steve laughed, awkwardly, looking down at himself. “Yeah, nobody’s getting it,” he admitted.

(Peggy, who was somewhere dressed up as Jane Russell in _Gentleman Prefer Blondes,_ had told him he looked like her dad and nobody was going to know who he was. He’d responded by telling her she was unrecognizable, too, which she shut down when she pointed out that Generic Old Timey Movie Star was still more recognizable than young, bearded Fred Rogers.)

“I’m uh...Mr. Rogers? Because...well, you know.” No. He wasn’t blushing. He _wasn’t blushing_. Fuck, yes he was. Peggy and Sam would have had a field day.

“Oh!” James laughed (laughing at him? Not sure. Don’t dwell.) “Right. I just didn’t realize because, you know, the real Mr. Rogers didn’t have a beard.”

Damn it, Peggy.

“That’s true. I probably should have shaved for authenticity.”

“No!” James exclaimed. Which...huh. Interesting. “I mean uh...you shouldn’t shave for...it’s not...it’s just a silly party. Can I get a hot dog?”

Steve was still a little stuck on the fact that James had been so emphatic about the state of his facial hair that it took him a minute to respond. Shaking himself out of the daze, he forced a smile. “Sure, hot dogs for all three of you?”

“Tofu dog for me, please,” said the pretty brunette and damn it, what _was_ her name?

“Coming right up.”

Once they were gone, he began mechanically filling other orders and smiling at everyone who came through, though his thoughts lingered on James. And how James felt about his beard.

The very bad thoughts were still running through his brain an hour later, back in his office, when Peggy walked in. She never knocked, unless the door was shut. It was their standing rule - he never knocked for her, either.

“Fuck,” she sighed, tugging on the zipper in the back of her dress after shutting the door behind her. “Help me out of this getup, would you, love?”

“Sure,” he agreed, amenable as he crossed the room and unzipped her. She’d changed in his office earlier, as it was bigger and more private. They ate lunch there together nearly every day they were both in the building, along with Sam, so he was used to having her around.  

“Bloody bustiers,” she smirked. “I regret teasing you about your choices - a cardigan would have been preferable to this.”

“Just cause you’ve got so much bust to eee-ayy, Peg” he smirked, dodging her hand when she turned around to smack his arm.

“Don’t tease me, Steve, it’s been a day.”

She was lying, he could tell - she was perfectly fine with being teased, but something was upsetting her all the same. Because he knew her better than anyone, and vice versa. In a lot of ways, they were still perfect for one another. The problems between them had never been to do with their compatibility or their friendship. It had all been in the bedroom, which he hated to admit, but it was the truth. They both loved being in charge, and neither of them especially liked ceding ground to the other. It ended up being the thing they couldn’t overcome. They’d certainly tried, bringing in third parties, going to counseling, even trying to open up the relationship for a while. But the fact of the matter was that they were both fiercely monogamous and incapable of meeting one another’s needs in bed. So they’d ended things as amicably as they could, and their friendship was all the better for it.

Steve was glad for that because he couldn’t imagine his life without Peggy Carter in it.

“What’s got your feathers ruffled?” he asked, going back to the sofa as she got undressed, modesty unnecessary at that point in their lives.

“Tony.”

Ah. The eternal struggle. They all had their Tony days, and they all commiserated to one another about them when they happened. So he might have started daydreaming a little as he listened to Peggy describe her latest disagreement with Tony, whom she loved dearly and was eternally at odds with. If Steve had to put money on it, there was something in there about the fact that Howard had seen Peggy as a surrogate daughter, while Tony had always been a bit of the prodigal son.

He tuned back in right as Peggy was finishing up her story. “...and then I hit him in the face with a stapler to knock him out.”

“Wait, what?”

“Hah, you weren’t listening at all!”

Caught red-handed. Steve pushed a hand through his hair and shrugged. “Sorry, Pegs. Just...got a lot on my mind.” 

“Mmm?” She sounded intrigued, coming to sit next to him and putting her feet in his lap. “Want to talk about it?”

“Oh...it’s nothing, really.”

“You always say it’s nothing when it’s something,” she pointed out. “Is it a personal problem or a work problem?”

“It’s...sort of both?” He shrugged, resting a hand on her ankles. “Encounter with a handsome stranger, let’s call it that.”

“Oh, do _tell_ ,” she smiled, leaning forward and wiggling her toes.

Steve huffed out a laugh, poking the bottom of her foot and shrugging. “There’s...someone I like, and it would be a bad idea if I went after him. Even though I want to. So I’m not going to. And it’s killin’ me a little.” He glanced over at her and smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t give this much of a shit, honestly. I hardly know the guy, just think he’s cute.”

“Ah,” Peggy replied, cocking her head to the side as she thought it through. “So he works here, then?”

“He does.”

“And he’s not in the C-suite.”

“He is not, no.”

“Then you’re making the right choice,” she said, gently.

He knew she was right, hated it anyway.

* * *

At the annual holiday ridiculousness, Steve spotted the redhead from the photos on James’ desk hanging off his arm. Girlfriend, then. That was fine. Steve had no problem with that.

He was so fine with it, in fact, he didn’t even care that James and said redhead were cutting it up on the dance floor, falling all over each other, while he and Peg were stuck talking with Maria Hill and some idiot from her department. (It was saying something about this guy’s particular brand of idiocy that Steve even noticed how stupid he was. He didn’t usually pay enough attention to the individual employees to know which ones were idiots and which ones weren’t. Unless those employees happened to be about six feet tall with pretty blue eyes and lips that were one good kiss away from a pout.)

And he was _obviously_ fine with the fact that James and the redhead eventually headed their direction. He was _peachy_ when James spotted his boss and stopped to greet her. Just _ducky_.

The idiot from Maria’s office (Ben? Brad?) was checking out James’ date, in a way that made Steve want to punch him in the face, because who _did_ that? He glared at the guy before schooling his features as introductions were made. The redhead was gorgeous - James had good taste, he had to admit. She was age-appropriate, too. And very female, as far as Steve could tell, which also didn’t bode well for his chances. Not that there _were_ chances, but he had a rich, varied fantasy life.

“Who’s your lovely date, Barnes?” possibly-Brad said, not doing anything to help himself in the getting-punched-by-Steve department.

“Natasha…” James started to say, said date speaking up at the same time.

“I’m Bucky’s roommate.”

Huh. Who was Bucky? Why hadn’t she introduced herself as James’ girlfriend? Was James ‘Bucky’? Was Bucky a code word for something? Mostly, though, he was fixated on the fact she hadn’t said girlfriend.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” maybe-Brad snorted.

“Uh…” Natasha looked confused. “Him?”

She meant James. James was Bucky. Natasha was his roommate. Glory be to whatever God Steve’s lapsed-Catholic ass believed in these days. Not that it mattered. It didn’t matter!

James (Bucky?) looked like he wanted to die.  “Bucky’s my nickname,” he said quietly, his cheeks going red. Steve wanted to hug him. Nope, bad idea. “It’s...James is my first name but...nobody really calls me that outside of work.”

So he wanted to be James, then. That was fine, Steve could do that. Even if he thought Bucky was endearing.

“It’s from Buchanan,” Natasha explained. “His middle name.”

James Buchanan Barnes. That was weird. Why would you name your kid after a shitty, mostly-forgotten president? He was still ruminating on that instead of listening to the conversation, as Peggy stepped in to smooth things over and James’ not-date started up a conversation with her.

Steve might have said something, but James didn’t stick around, practically fleeing to the bar. Poor guy. Steve felt bad as he pulled out his phone and headed to Facebook, where he immediately looked up Bucky Barnes.

 _There_ he was. And sue Steve if he spent the next ten minutes stalking what few posts and pictures were public. Nobody ever said he was a good person.

Once he’d exhausted the Facebook and Instagram possibilities, he kept an eye on James out of what he told himself was altruism but was actually just the fact that he liked watching him dance. However, his amusement at that was soon tempered by his concern about the kid’s constant trips to the bar. Steve watched as he downed shot after shot, danced a little, then went back for more booze. He was wasted, and Steve was debating whether or not it would be prudent to step in when he saw Natasha appear from out of nowhere, wrapping her friend up in a protective embrace.

She didn’t waste much time, glancing around for an out before pulling James through a side door.

“Steve, how much longer do you think we ought to stay?” Peggy asked, distracting him for a moment.

He tore his eyes away from the door they’d disappeared through, turning his attention back to her. “I uh...dunno, Pegs, did you talk to Pepper?”

“She said to use our best judgment, whatever that means,” she sighed. “I could use another drink. Do you want anything?”

“No, that’s...I’m gonna get some fresh air,” he lied, slipping away from her. He stopped by the bar to get a bottle of water, then headed through the side door he’d seen Bucky and Natasha go through.

Bad idea, Rogers. Bad, bad idea.

 _Extra_ bad idea, he realized, when he saw James propped up against the wall, alone. Where the hell had Natasha gone? The kid looked wrecked, head lolling to the side, eyes closed. How had Steve not noticed how drunk he was? Or, rather, why hadn’t he stepped in sooner?

( _Because he’s not yours to take care of_ , the little voice inside his head reminded him. Just this once, though, he was going to ignore that voice.)

Crouching down, he uncapped the water and held it to James’ lips, coaxing him to take a sip. “Just take a drink, that’s good.” To his relief, James did as he was told, swallowing a couple mouthfuls of water before opening his eyes and promptly coughing up what was in his mouth when he saw Steve in front of him. (And, okay? Who the hell had he been expecting, the Pope?)

“Shit…” James managed, looking down at himself before bringing his gaze back up to meet Steve’s. He looked terrified, which made Steve feel terrible. It was easy to forget his position at the company gave him a certain status, and James probably thought he was about to be fired.  

“It’s alright,” he said, hoping it sounded soothing as he pulled the bottle away. His instinct was to make James feel better, whatever it took. “Let’s give it a second, huh? You feel okay?”

Dumb question.

“Ungh...where’s Tasha?”

“Your friend?” Steve replied, filing the nickname away for later. Bucky and Tasha. Not adorable at all, oh no. “I saw her come back here with you, haven’t seen her since. I thought you might need some water, so I followed you…”

James interrupted him because apparently, Steve’s explanation wasn’t that interesting. That was fair. “Water?”

Steve held the bottle up to him again. Noticing the way James’ hands shook, Steve was careful to hold it in place, not missing the way he gulped thirstily. Maybe a little too fast, which wasn’t great - he’d hurt himself. He pulled the water away, feeling bad about it when James made a pitiful noise in his throat. “Whoa. Slow down a little, you’ll make yourself sick.”

James nodded, and Steve resisted every instinct he had, which were all _screaming_ at him to reach out and touch him, reassure him, protect him. Instead, he decided to try and make him feel better with a story. “You know, you’re not the drunkest person I’ve seen at one of these things. Thor brought his brother once, and the guy ended up falling off one of the balconies and breaking his wrist. Hell of a party in two thousand nine.”

“Uh huh,” James said, his eyes fixed intently on the lower half of Steve’s face. That was weird, though he barely had time for the thought to register before James closed the gap between them in an attempt to kiss him. Shit. Their noses bashed together, then their teeth, before Steve was overwhelmed by the sensation of being kissed by an entire bottle of gin and, uh, possibly a tray of shrimp puffs. It wasn’t the best.

But. It was a kiss. From the kid. From that _fucking_ kid.

Every part of him wanted to kiss back.

Steve was a better person than that.

He had to be.

“Okay…” Reluctantly, he put his hands on James’ shoulders and pushed him away, firmly as he dared. He didn’t want to hurt him, but he needed to end the kiss and preclude the possibility of another. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea right now.”

His plan, initially, had been to tell James exactly why it wasn’t a good idea. That plan went out the window when James proclaimed he was going to barf and Steve barely had time to get an empty ice bucket in front of his face.

Charming.

Still, it was no fun to be that drunk. When he brought a hand up to rub the back of James’ neck, it wasn’t out of attraction or desire, it was simply an intimate understanding of that kind of misery and wanting to bring the kid a little comfort.

“There you go,” he found himself saying, Sarah Rogers’ voice in his mouth, and damn if that didn’t sting like hell. “Get it all out, you’re okay.”

“Oh, Bucky,” came from above him. Steve turned his head slightly to catch sight of the bottom of Natasha’s dress. He’d been distracted enough by the puke that he hadn’t noticed her return. James seemed to be just about out of steam, though, dry-heaving a couple of times without bringing anything up. Natasha was holding a bottle of water and a napkin, which was a relief - she hadn’t abandoned him, she’d just been running an errand. That was good, Steve could like her again. He smiled, slightly, as he put the bucket down.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she crouched next to Steve. “I shouldn’t have left him, I thought he’d be okay. I went to get a washcloth and some water, but the best I could do was a stupid napkin.”

Steve nodded his understanding, taking the napkin from her and pouring a little water on it before pressing the paper to James’ forehead. James was very out of it, moaning a little at the sensation. Steve pulled his hand back, frowning and looking over at Natasha before speaking, trying to salvage the situation with a little charm.

“I understand,” he said. “He’s doing okay. I know we were introduced before, but considering the circumstances...I’m Steve, pleasure to meet you.”

“Natasha,” she smiled, shaking his proffered hand. “He doesn’t usually do this, please don’t think badly of him. It’s his first big work party, I suppose he got nervous.” She hesitated. “Thank you so much for taking care of him. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s not any trouble,” he said with a shrug, and that much was true. “You’re a good friend for spotting him out there.”

She shrugged, and her nonchalance couldn’t hide the flash of worry in her eyes. “He takes care of me, too, so...it’s no big deal.”

“How long have you two known each other?”

“Oh, since college. We moved here together after that.”

“Yeah?” He said, finding he liked Natasha quite a bit as she started dabbing at James’ face with the napkin. He remained unresponsive, which was worrying. “What do you do?”

“I’m a dancer,” she said, catching Steve’s double-take and smirking. “Not like that. Modern dance. I supplement by teaching classes. Pilates and stuff.”

Steve asked her a few more questions about that, as she coddled James. He found out where she danced, how often they performed, other things. He meant it when he said he’d like to come and see a show, regardless of the passed-out drunkard on the floor between them.

James hadn’t moved at all, though he was occasionally letting out a sad whimper. Cute as that was, Steve didn’t think a dimly lit, slightly smelly hallway was the best option for him right at that moment. “You know, I thought he might come around, but...you probably ought to get him home.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Natasha agreed. “I’ll call us a Lyft. Do you mind sitting with him while I go get our coats?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “Someone’s got to hold the bucket.”

Natasha laughed before disappearing back the way she’d come. Steve, ignoring the stiffness in his knees from crouching so long, shifted his weight and pulled off his suit jacket as he settled on the floor next to James. He hesitated a moment before balling up the material and moving James a little to wedge it between his head and the wall. The poor guy was shivering and making the most disconsolate noises Steve had ever heard.

Shit, he was gone on him. If he still wanted him this badly after watching him puke, well, there was no hope at all.

It took a few minutes for James to stir, and Steve watched, fascinated, as those bloodshot eyes cracked open. He looked at him fondly for a moment, not wanting to speak and break the spell. James did that himself, grunting and jerking to the side, the suit jacket falling onto the floor.

“Welcome back.” James’ face swiveled in his direction, and he looked surprised to see him. Steve imagined he’d forgotten he was even there, which was good since it meant he’d likely forgotten kissing him as well. “More water?”

“Please.” His voice sounded awful, and Steve felt even worse for him as he handed over the bottle and watched him drink. (And maybe watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed had Steve thinking about what it would be like to bite his neck. Make him moan. Watch him squirm. Fuck.)

Once James was finished, he had questions about how long he’d been out. Steve reassured him it hadn’t been so long, and that Natasha was on her way with their coats. He wasn’t as drunk as he’d been before, and Steve could tell he was embarrassed by the way he messed with his hair, running his fingers through it nervously. “I’m really sorry,” he mumbled, eyes trained on his lap. “This is so unprofess…”

Steve wasn’t going to let him get away with that. “Please,” he smirked. “This is mild in comparison to some of the antics I’ve seen at this party. If the worst thing that happens tonight is you barfing in an ice bucket, we got off lucky.”

James nodded, licking his lips (those fucking lips) before glancing back at Steve. “I didn’t mean to, I was just…”

“It’s fine,” he reiterated, and would this kid please just let himself off the hook a little? _Pretty little blue-eyed martyr._ “I’m not saying it should become a regular occurrence, but we’ve all done dumb things.”

James didn’t say anything else, just picked up the suit jacket from the floor and held it out to Steve, who took it with a thank you. It was obvious the evening hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted. He was young and embarrassed, and there was a part of Steve that desperately wanted to make him feel better.

So he just blurted out the first dumb thing that came to mind.

“You know, I think Bucky’s a great name.”

“Huh?” James looked bewildered. Obviously. Because Steve was a ridiculous person.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, attempting to cover with another long-winded explanation. “I was just thinking about it. You looked so annoyed by it but...I don’t know. It’s unique. There are a million guys named James in the world, probably only a couple named Bucky.”

_Why don’t you just tell him he’s gorgeous and you want to take him home and cuddle him until he feels better, Rogers?_

James looked confused more than anything else, picking at a thread on his jacket before muttering, “I guess.”

Natasha, blessedly, returned a second later, wearing her coat and holding one out for James. It didn’t take much time for them to get James to his feet, Steve steadying him a little.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries (or, rather, he and Natasha did, while James stood around looking confused as she got him into his coat) and Steve couldn’t help himself, putting a hand on James’ shoulder. “Take some aspirin before you go to bed, and drink more water.”

In his fantasies, the kid threw a “yes, sir” his way. Instead, he got a slurred “I will” and had to settle for watching as Natasha marched him down the hall.

An hour later, he was at Peggy’s, joining her for a nightcap. He’d likely end up sleeping there, considering the hour. Plus, he wanted to talk to her. He needed an outside opinion because he clearly wasn't thinking straight when it came to James. Peggy was nothing if not ruthlessly practical.

It was only when they’d both changed into something a little less formal and were sitting with their respective glasses of scotch in her cozy living room that he spoke up.

“I’m in trouble, Peg,” he said quietly, before spilling the entire sordid tale, from his not-so-innocent interest in a subordinate, to the way James had kissed him, to the way Steve hadn’t wanted him to stop.

Peggy listened, absorbing it all in that measured, easy way she had. When he’d finished, she sipped her drink and shook her head.

“Darling, you mustn't.”

“I know,” he sighed, leaning his head against the back of her couch and closing his eyes. “But I want to. I want him. And I could.”

“You could,” she agreed quietly. “But you shouldn’t. I think you know that.”

He did know it. He knew giving in to his baser impulses was a bad idea. That the possibility of hurting James was significant. That it could all fall apart so easily.

He used the company directory improperly to find James and Natasha’s address anyway, sending over a basket of food to their apartment the next morning.

The food was for both of them.

The sentiment was for Bucky.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, Steve one-shots! Thank you to everyone who has been leaving comments and kudos on the original story - this one is for you. I am overwhelmed by the support.
> 
> I do the Tumblr thing at [notlucy](https://notlucy.tumblr.com).


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